“Is he gone?”

Next to him, Andrews didn’t pretend that he didn’t know who Mason meant. The big executive officer moved, uniform sleeve bunching over his muscled upper arm as he checked his console. “Aye sir, Captain Riggs transported over two minutes ago.”

Mason nodded, just once, keeping his gaze on the viewscreen in front of him. It didn’t show anything but the space in front of them at the moment. The endless black of space that looked back. Wasn’t there a saying about looking into the Abyss… But he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t looking at anything.

He was preparing himself.

Mason had been born twice. Once on the day of his birth, to high acclaim and celebration on Llanaria, and again, and far more importantly, in the muck and dirt of a war. He’d found his true purpose there, facing down an enemy bent on death and destruction.

He’d led men and women into battle. Secured the win, time after time. Lost some too. But on the whole, he’d won more than he’d lost…

Now, once again, as he had on many battlefields, on the ground and out here in the darkness of space, he was going to ask people to put their lives on the line. He was going to order them, the ship, into situations that could get them all killed.

Did it make him a bad person that he was relieved that RJ wasn’t going to be one of them this time? That he was going to be safe here, locked in a system with no warp capability, away from the action?

His jaw tightened and he drummed his fingers lightly on the arm of his chair. Not tense, a holding pattern, as he swept his gaze around the bridge. To where Kovash sat at helm control, as she’d sat at so many before now, the crazy rivan waiting for any order he gave. Ready and willing to take that final journey with him if necessary.

To Bennett on the engineering console. They’d met on a battlefield a lifetime ago, fighting a different war. Boots on the ground, or here using the Resolute as a weapon, Bennett had always stood with him.

He looked to Allen, the sometimes-crazy science officer looking for any minute signs that underspace was about to open up in front of them, and then to Harrow. The tactical officer looked up, caught his gaze and winked.

Mason inclined his head. It was all he needed. These experienced officers were with him… had his back just as he had theirs. They were looked to by the younger members of the crew.

Like Rennox, in the jump seat behind the command chairs, and the ops ensign who looked like she was ready to throw up. Mason caught her gaze and nodded approval, watching as her spine straightened and a look of resolve washed over her features.

He sat up in his chair, and looked back at Allen. It was time. They were ready.

“Mr. Allen… any sign we’ll be joining the party some time soon?”